EFFING THE INEFFABLE:
 The Logocentric Fallacy in Argumentation
Michael A. Gilbert, York University, Toronto, Ont.
Gilbert@YorkU.ca

Keywords: logocentric, coalescent, non-logical,situational

Abstract
Words, just because they are words, are not inherently clear. The message they contain becomes clear to those who speak the language and are familiar with the issues and contexts. If the message lacks linguistic clarity the recipient of the message will typically make a query that will bring forth further information intended to clarify. The result might be more words, but it might also involve pointing or drawing, or words that utilize other modes such as references to context, history, and so on. If the ambiguity derives from an inconsistency between, say, words and behaviour, one may look to either mode for clarity. Communication, we must accept, actually occurs in messages, and our ability to transmit information may be limited by any number of factors. When we focus entirely on discursive aspects of communication we limit both the ways in which we receive and ways in which we transmit information. The logocentric fallacy is committed when language, especially in it’s most logical guise, is seen to be the only form of rational communication.

1.

Arguing well requires the utilization of a number of diverse skills and the application of various sorts of knowledge  which are ideally used in concert to achieve a particular result. Those skills include the ability to identify components of an argument, see how they are related, and determine the degree to which they support each other in bringing about a conclusion that is well supported and motivated. Of course, one must be able to understand the language in both literal and figurative terms; inability to do so means that the basic operations cannot even begin. In addition, many arguments rely on substantial information, and familiarity with the information is often a requisite to understanding, and certainly taking exception to, an argument (Willard, 1989, p. 8 ff). That is, it is only occasionally the case that the logical structure of an argument is sufficiently askew so that it will be rejected on structural grounds. Often it is the truth of a premiss or the reliability of information that is a cause for rejection. 

The skills required can, loosely, be put into two categories which roughly correspond to the traditional logical division of structure and content. The argument may have premisses which, for one reason or another do not relate to each other in a way that sufficiently warrants the conclusion. Or, the relationship between the argumentative components may be acceptable, but one or more of the premisses may be false or insufficiently supported. None of this is to say that the models currently used in Argumentation Theory and/or Informal Logic are essentially deductive. There is no requirement that a relationship of formal validity will exist between premisses and conclusion prior to an argument’s certification as acceptable. Other, looser connections are certainly permissible and have been described extensively in numerous books and journals. 

The idea that “looser connections” are common, useful and routine in marketplace argument is one of the notable advances that Argumentation Theory has brought about. Lately, the very base concepts of, e.g., validity and fallacy, have been opened and questioned. Consider a simple example.

Example 1  Suspicion - 1

Ralph and Tony are pondering the missing wallet. As they sit in the pub speculating on who could have walked off with it, Bob enters. “Hi, guys,” he says, “why don’t you let me buy a round of beers.” Shocked but pleased, they both indicate acceptance, and Bob trots off to the bar to fetch them.
“You know,” Tony says to Ralph, “I can never remember Bob buying a round of drinks. Can you?”
“No, he’s always broke.”
“Well,  as much as I hate to say it, if he stole the missing wallet, then he’d have money.”
“And he’s got money,” Ralph pointed out.
“So,” Tony concluded just as Bob returned, “he must have stolen the wallet!”
Ralph and Tony, as any instructor of Informal Logic will tell them, have committed a fallacy called affirming the consequent. Laid out formally it goes like this.

Example 2  Suspicion – 1 Formal
If Bob stole the wallet, then Bob has money.
Bob has money.
Ergo, Bob stole the wallet.

This argument is not deductively valid, i.e., the truth of the conclusion is not guaranteed by the truth of the premisses. Bob may have acquired money in some other way or may have finally decided it was his turn to buy a round. So the argument expressed by Tony and concurred to by Ralph is an example of fallacious reasoning. Still, it is not difficult to change the argument slightly so that it is not something that need be discarded. All we have to do is give Ralph a few more moments to clarify matters, thusly.

Example 3  Suspicion – 2
Ralph, who has just taken an introductory Informal Logic course, puts the brakes on Tony’s reasoning. “Hold on a second, Tony. Just because he has money it doesn’t mean he stole the wallet – maybe he got a part time job.”
 Tony, knowing Bob as well as he does, looks skeptical. 
“Well, all right,” Ralph continues, “maybe his having money is suspicious, but it sure doesn’t prove he took the wallet, right”
“No, I guess not. But maybe we can try to find out where he got the money from?”
“Good idea.”
The end result is that the original argument is accepted as one that might allowably be permitted to raise one’s suspicions, but not provide proof. 

There are a number of important points to notice about this argument aside from the fact that Bob did not steal the money. But just as important is the dynamic that occurs in the process of the discussion, most notably that the fallaciousness of the argument is not sufficient for its rejection. Rather, the partners to the discussion find a way to use it without dismissing it — they agree that the situation warrants suspicion but not proof. Suppose, on the other hand, that there had not been a stolen wallet at issue and Tony had suggested that perhaps Bob had robbed a bank. In that case, Ralph would have laughed on moved on to other subjects; Bob might conceivably take advantage of a found wallet, but would never do anything like robbing a bank.

Example 4  Bank Job
“Did I hear right,” Ralph asked, “is Bob buying drinks?”
“That’s what he said,” Tony confirmed, “he must have robbed a bank.”
“No question about it.”  
From all accounts, and by simply paying attention to the literal transcript –  to what is actually said –  Ralph and Tony seem more secure in their conclusion than in Example 1. 

Example 5  Bank Job – Formal
If Bob robbed a bank, then he would have money.
Bob has money.
Bob robbed a bank.

This argument has the same structure as Example 2, but would not be taken seriously as an argument even though the transcript makes it appear that way. The difference is telling, because it is not the logical structure, and not even the words so much as the knowledge that Ralph and Tony have about Bob. This is, clearly, not a difficult or even terribly problematic example; one need only appeal to Grice’s conversational implicature, and point out that Tony said something patently absurd and so Ralph made sense of it by turning it into a joke. But while this might make a complex situation seem simple, the solution raises almost as many problems as it solves. First, just how is it that both members of the conversation are able to draw upon information available to them but not to others? Secondly, in an argumentative situation there may be less cooperation, even a willful lack of cooperation designed to make an opposer look foolish, lose confidence, become angry, or etc. Also, thirdly, even where there is goodwill, the information necessary for a complete understanding of an opposer’s position may be beyond the scope of the available information. How can one know this? How can one become aware that the argument being presented is incomplete?

These difficulties and similar related ones present special challenges to Argumentation Theory because argumentation relies so completely on mutual understanding in a creative heuristic dialogue. For that matter, the eristic sophist also needs a complete understanding of an opposer’s position if she is to wreak havoc with it. These questions also relate to general issues in the Philosophy of Language and Communication Theory, most notably the general question of how does one understand someone else. My concern, however, is more specific. I ask the question, How, in the course of an argument, do we come to understand someone else’s position, and how can we know that we have done so?

2.

The very idea of communication is truly astounding. The fact that two human beings can pass information the one to the other and more or less get it right never ceases to amaze. Since I am always surprised when communication does succeed, I am consequently never surprised when it does not work perfectly, and, in one very important sense, communication frequently does not work perfectly. If one considers the number of times clarification is required after a communication is presented, it actually becomes clear that it is more often than not. Most communications are conversations that involve give and take, question and answer. Rarely is something said that does not need, or find useful, further emendation. Sometimes this is a result of a request for more information to narrow and clarify options, responsibilities and significance. Other times the meaning is simply not received in sufficiently clear form to permit complete absorption.

If I am invited for dinner, then even if the time and date are included, I might want to know what sort of wine would be best. On the other hand, I might not be clear if the invitation proffered includes dinner or not – most of us have been in that situation: We assumed the invitation was for dinner when it was only for drinks (or vice versa,) and have suffered consequences in either case. In one case I know of, someone took herself to be invited to dinner at friends, and was completely nonplussed when the morning of the date she was phoned and asked what time they should arrive at her house. Communication goes awry in every circumstance, including those in which the participants know each other and share background knowledge. No matter how simple the exchange, there is room for error, and unintentional obfuscation intrudes with ease into the most banal interactions.

It is, therefore, not surprising that when a communicative interaction is more complex that misunderstandings, mis-takings, can occur very easily. Two ways in which communications become more complex is when they are about complex issues and/or when there is disagreement. In the first instance the subtlety required means the language must not only be quite precise, but it also must be understood and used in the same way by the participants. In the second case, when people are arguing they frequently fail to pay sufficient attention to what is being said to them and, for that matter, often to what they themselves are saying. Nor is it the case that written argumentation is clearer or better than verbal. Entire academic industries exist solely because it is frequently impossible to accurately interpret someone’s written words. That is, the mere fact that the words are written down and can be examined and isolated is not enough to ensure precision. Whether it is a debate on the interpretation of a Shakespearean sonnet, a tiff over the significance of a municipal bylaw, or Kantian exegesis, we are never surprised by disagreement.

What becomes obvious when we consider it is this: Most communications require clarification. The really interesting issue then arises, viz., what forms of communication are required for clarification. In other words, if most communications are not clear, what must be done beyond their initial presentation in order to make them clear. How do we move, if you like, from having an idea of what someone believes or of entertaining a number of possibilities regarding a communicator’s message, to determining what was actually intended and verifying that we have arrived at the correct result? Note first of all that precisization, to use Naess’ (1953) term is not always desired nor required. Frequently, having a fair idea of a communication partner’s message is sufficient; it is usually when difficulties arise or there is some actual or anticipated problem that we seek clarification. 
  
Communication takes places holistically. The recipient of a message uses a wide variety of cues and considerable range of information in order to interpret what is being communicated. The fewer cues available, the less reliance one puts on the interpretation. These cues range from the very words being uttered, to the context in which the communication is taking place, to the emotional and intuitive feel of the message. In short, they cover the full range of modalities –  logical, emotional, visceral and kisceral –  about which I have written before (Gilbert, 1994,1997.) While some philosophers (e.g., Frege and Russell,)  have focused extensively on words and sentences, others (e.g., Wittgenstein and Grice,) have realized that communication depends on a cooperative enterprise that is an ongoing interaction between the speaker, the hearer, and the environment. In other words, there is no meaning without a context, and the context is multi-sourced.

Example 6  Waiting for Frans
“Frans is late again,” said Agnes. “He said he’d be here at 1900, and it’s already 1930.”
“Yes,” said Bart, “but he winked when he said it. I think he knew he’d be late.”
“What’s the surprise?” said Chris. “He’s always late. Doesn’t matter what he says, he’ll still be late.”
“Yeah,” Doug added, “but I had a feeling that this time he’d be on time.”
This example illustrates four different people relying on different aspects of a message which we might name, ‘I will be on time,’ for verification of their interpretation and for explanation of how the message has worked out. Frans has not shown up on time. Agnes appeals to the logical, i.e., the verbal pronouncement he made. She evinces surprise that, having made the announcement, Frans has not appeared. Bart, on the other hand, references a visceral component, a piece of  non-verbal communication to explain why he is not surprised: He read that into the message when he received it. Chris is appealing to the historical tendency Frans has for tardiness—her knowledge of him and his past arrivals supercedes the verbal message. Finally, Doug may well have all the information available to the group and know Frans as well as any of them, but something in the message spoke promptness to him.

Messages are extremely rich objects and a variety of factors go into just how they are interpreted. How the message is received can be a question of attention, individual acuity and style with respect to ability to decode (cf. O’keefe, 1988, 1995,) personal interest and attachment to desired outcomes, knowledge of the participants, and so on. The result is that paying attention only to the discursive component and then only to the logical aspect of it is very likely to mislead. Which is not to say that other modes may not be misleading as well. I do not want to be taken as holding that other modes have more priority in all contexts; in any number of circumstances the logical mode with its emphasis on the verbal is highly significant and dominates the interaction. But the focus on the discursive, and especially its logical nature, frequently leads to misunderstanding and poor communication. The Logocentric Fallacy is just the assumption that verbal pronouncements take precedence over other forms and modes of communication, and it is a fallacy because relying on it can often lead us to accept falsehoods rather than truth. 

Consider, first, several situations in which the discursive in the logical mode actually does seem to be the dominant form of communication. One such situation is in courtroom testimony where, frequently, and certainly as portrayed by the popular media, the literal words of an individual are taken as against their clear intention. That is, by insisting on using precise language respondents to a question are often prohibited from expressing their full meaning; rather, the limitation placed on the answer by the agreed upon rules limits one’s options. One word which is invariably susceptible to such literalism is the word ‘possible.’

Example 7  Anything Is Possible
“Isn’t it possible,” the lawyer asked, “that the back door was not actually locked?”
“Well, that would be very unlikely since the auto-check mechanism would have sent out a signal.”
“And if the auto-check mechanism failed? Then what?”
“Well, maybe if it failed, but it never has. Besides, there’s a …”
“Ah ha!” the lawyer declaimed, “then it is possible!”
“Well, I guess…”
The term ‘possible’ has, of course, a wide array of meanings ranging from “likely” to “logically possible.” The attorney is relying on that ambiguity and the fact that she can demand a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer that does not permit colouration. This peculiarity of the testimony system is a prime example of the logocentric fallacy because it assumes that words can be used in situations where they cannot. More often than not messages need to be amplified and articulated, especially when the result of mis-reading them may have serious consequences. Information of consequence is normally communicated through anecdote, whether in the form of story and example or in discursive text. Explanations are rarely if ever communicated in one word, and when they are we invariably rely on the context for amplification.

Remaining in the realm of law, words are also central to contracts. Indeed, it is possible that there is no place where words carry so much weight on their own as in contracts. This has lead to a kind of linguistic internalism that has developed into a semi-independent language, usually called “legalese,” that is penetrable only by trained practitioners. While many feel that the degree of lay inaccessibility has gone beyond the reasonable, especially in public and short term contexts (e.g., software licenses,) the motivation is to have any trained professional examining the document arrive inexorably at the originally intended conclusion. In other words, in contracts the assumption is that the message must be decipherable to anyone independent of the context, their knowledge of intentions, the participants and their goals and issues. (Occasionally in court disputes the intentions of the signers may be admitted as relevant.) Yet even in this arcane situation there is a general context that is relevant, viz., the meanings of the terms, ability to use the language, and professional assumptions inherent in the legal profession that form a milieu in which this all takes place. 

 There are other circumstances in which the discursive is generally more central than alternative modes, including, for example, scholarly texts and journal writing. Again, this is not to say that the context, background, and historical information concerning the participants in the area are irrelevant. To the contrary, a full understanding of a position may well require information that an outsider to a field may not have. (Vide, Willard, 1983.) Often, for example, when reading in a strange area one finds that discussing the issues with a colleague familiar with the field explains a lot. The questions that are considered important, the difficulties with traditional responses, why some theories are considered radical and others not, are all questions familiar to a regular participant but not to a visitor. Moreover, there is frequently value in placing a contentious issue in an historical context, situating it among the political, social and economic issues with which the thinkers of the day were concerned. Yes, in philosophy many want to claim that arguments are timeless and stand or fall independently of contextual issues, but whether this is true or false, understanding is usually aided by knowledge of such issues. Moreover, the idea that written arguments are clear and unambiguous is belied by the vast literature putting forward and arguing about alternative interpretations of everything from the great masters of philosophy to episodes of Star Trek.

Words, just because they are words, are not inherently clear. The message they contain becomes clear to those who speak the language and are familiar with the issues and contexts. Lay persons reading philosophers often arrive at very odd interpretations just because they are not schooled in the issues and subtleties of the language used. To suppose otherwise is to commit the logocentric fallacy.

I have been arguing that there are circumstances in which the logical mode of communication with its heavy reliance on discursive acts is very important in various arenas, but nonetheless its utilization requires non-discursive information. If we turn to other examples of communication which are also apparently discursive and reliant on verbal communications the role of language becomes less central. In Example 6, Bart claims to have seen Frans wink, which he took as a message that his words were not to be taken seriously. There, as in the next example, the non-discursive is taken as having higher authority than the discursive.

Example 8  The Promise
As soon as school let out Francisca found Eveline and pulled her aside. Giggling, she looked around, then whispered, “I’ve got the most secret thing to tell you about Erik, but you must promise not to tell. OK?”
Eveline grinned at Francisca with anticipation and said, “Absolutely, I won’t tell a soul.” But, behind her back she had crossed her fingers, negating the promise.
“Oh, no,” Francisca insisted, “let’s see both hands in front of you, and cross your heart and hope to die.”
The rules of promising are very complex in addition to being situation and culture dependent. Francisca knows that among school age girls in the arena of gossip, finger-crossing negates a commitment not to repeat the information. In this case she is aware that the physical act, an instance of the visceral mode of communication, supercedes the verbal act, and, as a result, demands both to have Eveline’s hands in view as well as raising the stakes from merely saying “yes” to crossing her heart, a higher order of promise commitment. Notice too that the act of crossing one’s heart is physical: Eveline will not merely speak her commitment to the promise, but performs a physical action demonstrating that commitment. As so often, actions speak louder than words, but our description of the event before, say, a student court, might merely be that Eveline promised. The nature of the promise, the level of security demanded, the care that Francisca took would likely be lost in the retelling.

The kisceral mode of communication covers those communicative aspects that involve intuition, hunches, the religious, mystical, and so on. This mode too can sometimes supercede even the most straightforward of verbal declarations.

Example 9  Sure I’ll Come
“So you’ll be there? Two weeks this Saturday?” Karen asked.
“Of course,” Samuel replied with a reassuring smile, “wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He squeezed Karen’s hand and took his leave.
“That’s so exciting,” Karen enthused to Grace, her partner. “Samuel’s going to come to our party.”
“No he’s not,” Grace said flatly.
“But he said he would.”
“He was just being polite. He won’t be there. I can tell.”
Grace’s intuition about Samuel overrides, in her mind, Samuel’s verbal declaration. Her intuition is sufficiently compelling to herself, and Karen is sufficiently impressed with Grace’s confidence in it, that Karen agrees not to announce that Samuel is expected. It matters not where Grace’s hunch derives from – she honestly could not say – but it is strong enough that she has confidence in it. Words do not cause us to set aside kisceral events any more than actions. 

It is not always the case that alternative modes supercede linguistic pronouncements, but they may nonetheless make them ambiguous. In reality, a great deal of conversation and argument is focused on disambiguating messages. Not infrequently, what seems argumentative in the technical sense, that is, we identify a disagreement within the framework of the conversation, is really a query designed to disambiguate. In many communications there is a need to disambiguate one or another aspect of the communication. We normally think that disambiguation concerns language, but this is a mistake as often the need for disambiguation derives directly from a non-discursive component of the interaction. Moreover, it may well be another mode that acts as the conduit for the disambiguation. In general, disambiguation is required when there is some component of the interaction that is not sufficiently clear or is inconsistent with the other modal components. Once disambiguation is identified, clarity can be pursued. 

If the message lacks linguistic clarity the recipient of the message will typically make a query that will bring forth further information intended to clarify. The result might be more words, but it might also involve pointing or drawing, or words that utilize other modes such as references to context, history, and so on. If the ambiguity derives from an inconsistency between, say, words and behaviour, one may look to either mode for clarity. Sometimes comprehension is deemed to be too difficult as is sometimes evidenced by expressions such as, “You had to be there,” or “It’s hard to put in words.” All of which goes to emphasize that words are frequently insufficient to amplify, disambiguate, or clarify thoughts and positions. Moreover, when further words are used they will sometimes be used to communicate ideas within a non-logical mode. That is, they are discursively referencing alternative modes when clarification is demanded. Simply put, emotional ambiguity, for example, is sometimes disambiguated via talking about it. But even here, it must be noted, the emotional messages one reads will, for most people, have greater weight than the words used to belie them.

3.

We often attempt to “eff” the ineffable, but do not always succeed. We frequently fail because language is often not up to the task of describing and communicating the details of the non-logical modes. But the error is in supposing that we only understand something when we can put it into words; that being able to “say” it makes it real. Moreover, even when we think we have succeeded in capturing the meaning of an event or message linguistically we may have actually failed or may be forced to reconsider. This is even true when both parties to the communication agree to the linguistic rendition.

Example 10  That’s It - 1
Ron finished his presentation and sat down. Gloria thanked him, surveyed the table, and looked at Rachel. “Well,” Rachel began, “Ron thinks that given the current market strength and stability, and factoring in the current availability of raw materials and low labor costs, this is an excellent time to move into Asian markets.” Gloria then looked back at Ron for comment.
Ron nodded slowly, slightly dismayed that his 30 minute presentation replete with graphics, charts and complex data made instantly comprehensible by his slaved over commentary was digested into a single 25 word sentence. “I guess,” he concurred, “that’s it in a nutshell.”
We now have a very common situation. A complex situation, in this case a business presentation, has been capsulized, and the capsulization has been agreed to. However, as discussion goes on, we will not be surprised if Ron interjects with clarifications.
Example 11  That’s it – 2
“One thing that concerns me,” Steve said after a while, “is the possibility of currency fluctuations.”
“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern,” Ron said, “but you may recall that I took that into account when computing the low end profit margin.”
Ron may need to clarify something that went beyond the summary, even though he agreed to it in the first place. It is, after all, in the nature of summaries to miss a great deal—if they did not they would not be summaries. The problem is that we not infrequently replace the original, dense and complex presentation, theory or message, with the summary or some easy to identify linguistic object. When this happens there arises a situation not unlike that exemplified in Example 7, the courtroom example. The literalness of the statement strips the meaning away and a great deal of the message is lost. 

Meaning loss can also occur on the non-linguistic level.

Example 12  That’s it – 3
“Ron,” Gloria inquired, “am I wrong, or did I sense some hesitation when you were discussing labour skills?”
The fact that the presentation was discursive and the summary agreed to does not mean that non-verbal messages will become irrelevant. The tone of voice used in different parts of the presentation can become significant indicators of confidence and doubt. 

This series of examples demonstrates that agreeing to a verbal encapsulization of a message does not guarantee that the message is understood or that the summary will not be altered or queried. What is interesting is that this sort of translation from complexity to simplicity is a common and necessary aspect of all communications when we are relaying their content. An individual hearer’s own comprehension, on the other hand, will be much richer depending on her ability to attend, read and decipher. The richness of the message must, perforce, be lost when it is being communicated, transmitted, written down or otherwise captured. A more common example is Example 9  Sure I’ll Come, where Grace may have considerable difficulty in explaining to Karen exactly what she “picked up on” in Samuel’s message, but is nonetheless convinced of what she perceived.

The end result is the acceptance that communication actually occurs in messages, and our ability to transmit information may be limited by any number of factors. When we focus entirely on discursive aspects of communication we limit both the ways in which we receive and ways in which we transmit information. The logocentric fallacy is committed when language, especially in it’s most logical guise, is seen to be the only form of rational communication. Words are rarely used and understood in ways that defy their misuse or misinterpretation; the idea that they are clearer than emotional or visceral messages is a prejudice that derives in no small part from our needs for recording and communicating various matters to third parties. It will, in fact, be interesting to witness the evolution of our culture and communicative modes from a word based process to one that is more holistic and includes a wider range of communication devices. Perhaps some day it will be taken for granted that tonality, body movement and facial expression are an integral part to understanding a position and having an argument. For now, it will simply serve us to beware the logocentric fallacy, and take seriously information that is not discursively and logically based.

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